Zayne (Confessions #8)

Chapter One

So, I have a temper.

Are you really that surprised?

~ Chloé

THERE ARE MOMENTS in life that will always stand out. The time, the place, the sounds, the people—and as Chloé stood in the middle of the Juliette Grand Ballroom of the LondonHouse, she knew that this was one of those moments.

Senator Randall Copeland was an ass. The way he’d just dismissed Zayne—his son—confirmed every single thought she’d ever had about the vile man.

But as he walked away from them and the crowd behind him came into view, Chloé’s disgust instantly took a back seat to the shock waves that hit her when she spotted two familiar faces staring back at her.

“Chloé?”

“ Mon Ange? ”

Oh. My. God.

“Dad…? Papounet…? What, what are you doing—”

The catering event. Wait, they’re catering this event? Oh my God. That’s his food, our food. How could I be so stupid?

She could hear the chatter of the crowd in the distance as her brain tried to catch up with what it was seeing. But her ability to form complete sentences seemed to have vanished in the blink of an eye.

“Jules?” Dad said, leaning into her père’s side. “Did he just say our date?”

Putain . That was exactly what Zayne had just said to the senator, and as Chloé stood there frozen in place, she felt her two “dates” move up beside her.

“Chloé?”

She wasn’t quite sure if it was Ethan’s voice by her ear or her père’s eyes on his hand at the small of her back that sent a shiver down her spine.

But when Ethan added, “Are you okay, petite fille ?” her stomach twisted into a giant knot.

“What did you just call her?” Père took a step forward, those usually kind jade eyes shooting daggers in Ethan’s direction. But luckily for them, her dad slipped his arm through his husband’s elbow, halting him.

“Jules…” Dad’s eyes shifted between Ethan and Zayne as he patted her père’s sleeve. “I’m all for making a scene, but perhaps this isn’t the right place? Let’s take this…discussion somewhere private.”

“Très bien. But they stay.”

She could feel Ethan and Zayne’s eyes on her, but there was no getting out of this—she just had to hope they would understand and wait for her. “I’ll be right back.”

They didn’t even get a chance to respond before her père took hold of her elbow and began to tow her through the crowd toward a set of double doors.

Seconds later they were outside the ballroom and he was guiding her around a corner and into the setup area.

She wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad thing that he hadn’t taken her to the kitchens.

At least in there the other employees of JULIEN could bear witness to whether or not she survived the next however many minutes.

The door clicked shut behind them, and her père let her go and started to pace the room.

"Ce salaud, Il ose l'appeler sa petite fille. Je devrais lui arracher la langue."

Chloé’s eyes widened at the outburst. This was so unlike her père . He was always so calm, so collected. Hell, he drank green juice and meditated every morning, for God’s sake. But the man currently wearing a hole in the shiny wooden floor was vibrating with fury.

She looked to her dad, hoping for some kind of help, but he was busy glaring her to death. So she figured her best course of action was to stay as still and silent as possible until the initial shock wore off.

“Well?” her dad finally said, planting his hands on his hips. “What are you waiting for?”

Umm… Permission to breathe?

“Explain yourself, young lady.”

Chloé worried her lower lip, trying to come up with any scenario in which the explanation she gave would be acceptable—but she had nothing.

“ Chloé, ” Dad snapped, and she blinked him back into focus. “ What are you doing here?”

Okay, she just needed to suck it up and spill the beans. Rip off the Band-Aid, so to speak. That was easier said than done, though, when you knew it was going to hurt like hell.

“I’m… I’m on my date.”

“Your date.” Dad eyed her as though she’d lost her mind. “Your date brought you to an event for Senator Randall Copeland ?”

Well, technically he was the son of Senator Randall Copeland. But the horrified look on her dad’s face said to maybe keep that little tidbit to herself.

“Wow. He sounds like a real winner, Chloé.”

Chloé’s spine stiffened in automatic defense of Zayne. “He is, actually, and you’re one to judge. You’re catering the event.”

“Because your père was highly recommended and only found out at the last minute who it was for.” He let out a huff. “But that’s beside the point.”

“Then what is the point? You don’t like where my date brought me for dinner?”

He shook a finger under her nose. “Don’t you sass me.”

“I’m not—”

“ Yes , you are. And while that certainly should be a point, there are several others I’d like to discuss first. Starting with, did I or did I not hear them say that you were their date?

And second, how old are they? Because those two men sure as hell aren’t nineteen.

” He crossed his arms and tapped his foot on the hardwood floor. “I’m waiting.”

And I’m stalling… Think, Chloé, think.

But there was no getting out of this. Not anymore. Ethan and Zayne were out there waiting for her so they could leave, and after this conversation it’d either be with them or in a body bag.

Mustering up every bit of courage she had, Chloé looked her dad straight in the eye.

“Okay, yes, you heard right. I’m here with both of them. They’re both my dates.”

Dad’s eyes widened until they all but encompassed his face, and her père came to a stop and pivoted in their direction.

“Oh my God. I knew it.” Dad turned away from her and looked up to the heavens. “I knew that’s what I heard.”

Chloé’s eyes flicked to her père , who was just staring at her now, and for the life of her she couldn’t get a read on his expression.

“And they’re twenty-nine… I think?”

“You think ?” Her dad whirled around on her. “What do you mean, you think?”

“Well, you always told me it’s not polite to ask.”

“I certainly hope they asked your age.” He started to mutter to himself then. “Their date… Twenty-nine… Sweet Mary, mother of God, Joel is going to have a heart attack…”

Her père marched back across the room.

“I don’t have time for this.” He shook his head and rubbed a hand over his face.

“I have a ballroom full of guests, two of which are apparently your dates, and now I’m running late.

I don’t know what you think you’re playing at, Chloé, but this?

I don’t even have the words for what this is.

Just thank your lucky stars your papa isn’t here right now. ”

His anger and disappointment were palpable, and the knowledge that she’d caused it had her lowering her head.

“We’ll talk about this later, at home. I have to go to work now.”

He pulled open the door and exited the room, leaving her standing there staring at an empty doorway, her stomach churning at the idea she’d let him down.

“What on earth are you thinking?” She turned to see her dad walking over to her. “Two men, Chloé? Really? Is this some kind of joke? Are you trying to prank us?”

“No, I’m not trying to prank you. I didn’t plan it. It just happened. And I like them—a lot.”

“It just happened…” He let out a long-suffering sigh and rubbed his hands over his face. “You know what? I think it’s best if you make your excuses and go home for the night.”

Chloé’s jaw hit the ground as her entire being filled with righteous indignation. “I’m not going home. I’m not some little girl—”

“According to that man out there, you are.”

She jutted her chin out in automatic defiance. “You know what I mean. I’m on a date . I’m not going home like some child sent to her room.”

“Then where are you going to go? Their home? Their room?”

She opened her mouth to respond, but he held up a finger.

“I don’t want to hear it. You’ve lied to us for God knows how long, and I’m not in the mood for you to try to talk your way out of it.”

“Fine.” Chloé stormed over to the door, her temper starting to bubble up now. “I thought at least you would understand.”

“Oh, I understand. The attention, the rush. It’s addictive. It’s also very dangerous. You’re young and inexperienced—they’re not. I’ve known men like that.”

“You married two men like that.”

Dad reared back as though she’d slapped him, and for a second she regretted her outburst.

“We’re done talking. I recommend you leave before either of us say things we might regret.”

Fuming now, Chloé bit down on her tongue, yanked open the door, and stormed out into the hall, her anger hot on her heels.

Never had the term “do as I say and not as I do” been so appropriate, and the judgment she was feeling only spurred on her defiance.

Why was it okay for them to be together as three but not her? They’d always taught her to be open-minded, and now that she was, they had a problem with it? How was that fair? She’d at least thought her dad would be on her side. But for now, it looked like she was on her own.

Well, as alone as one could be when she had two gorgeous men waiting for her—and with that thought in mind, she marched down the hall and decided she was going to finish out her date tonight and deal with the consequences tomorrow.

* * *

“DID RED JUST call one of them Dad ?” Zayne zeroed in on the two men ushering Chloé out of the ballroom, one in a black chef’s jacket and the other in a flashy gold floral Baroque suit. “I didn’t imagine that, right?”

“No, you did not.” Ethan snagged two glasses of champagne as a waitress walked by and handed one to Zayne. It wasn’t either of their first choices when it came to alcohol, but considering the circumstances, they weren’t about to be picky.

They each drained their glass in one long gulp.

“If I had to guess,” Ethan said, eyeing the exit the three had just walked through, “ Papounet also means some kind of fatherly endearment.”

“French again.”